love

America

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“O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me. And yet I swear this oath-America will be!” Langston Hughes

 

My country

strives to be

a sweet Land of Liberty,

a Crown of Beauty,

from sea to shining sea-

an example

a beacon

to other countries

and peoples

to witness

the possibility

of beloved community

amidst vast diversity,

of justice

amidst adversity,

of kindness

in the midst of such plenty.

America,

this grand, young experiment

in democracy-

governance

of

for

by

We, The People.

Still struggling with its meaning,

back and forth, we go;

to and fro,

from the high

to the very low.

Another birthday,

America 

tentatively celebrates,

expressing gratitude

for what is good.

While also cultivating

a firm commitment

to manifesting

for all

that which is

honorable,

innocent,

hopeful

within the

imperfect,

complex,

uncomfortable

experiment

that gave birth to a nation

of immigrants.

 

 

Chemistry

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“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” ― C.G. Jung

A bit of a mystery,

this thing called chemistry:

that inexplicable spark,

ignited from the depths of the loins

or Heart,

where connection starts.

The lean in – 

straight, no chaser –

is a little closer,

paying careful attention.

Two ships stopping,

not wanting to miss anything.

A stirring on the inside,

butterflies,

a yearning to learn

who resides

on that side;

how songs are played

on that life’s stage.

Chemistry,

no rhyme,

no reason-

simply the right season;

a destiny fulfilled

as per God’s Will.

 

 

Give it Away!

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Give It away!

For It does not belong to you.

You are but the vessel It flows through.

It chooses you, coming seemingly

out of the blue

to awaken and amuse.

“Give Me away!”

It begs.

“I was not meant to remain hidden in your head,

dormant, because you are afraid.

I come from a place that is nothing but pure.

Hence, no need for you to be insecure.”

FREEDOM

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All humans yearn to be free;

to manifest our unique destiny;

to be wholly who we were designed to be.

A caged bird loses its melody-

it cannot fly-

let alone sing-

with clipped wings.

What an utter shame,

a sorrowful loss

this game…we play

of a boss,

of another mere human

knowing better than us.

Why do we so easily

give our innate power away;

so often stifle what is inside us

to say?

We all lose

when we chose

captivity

over

creativity;

conformity

in lieu of

individuality.

We are encouraged to be ourselves,

to come out of our protective shells,

then

often

shunned

when a few

do not see

as we do.

Labeled sinner,

we are marked with a scarlet letter-

excommunicated

mutilated

married

raped

shot

subjugated

stoned

burned!

These, it is believed,

is how we learn

to be silent

remain quiet;

stay small

do not stand tall.

What is the threat

that freedom for all

is perceived

to beget?

The shackles

bind

both ways.

What so ever you do to me,

that you do unto thee.

All humans

were meant to be

free.

No matter the costs

or how long,

Spirit will indeed

sing its songs.

 

 

 

 

 

Quiet

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For those of us who crave Quiet,

who suckle on silence as if it were Mother’s milk,

in every moment,

a trade must be made,

a resultant price paid:

do we the “self” isolate

or do we “other” engage?

The latter can feel like flagellation

when the Quiet Soul

has reached

its social limitation –

that tipping point,

the point of no and diminishing return,

where absolute quiet

is all one yearns-

gasping for it as if a fish out of water,

the mind in an uproar –

all chaos and disorder.

But then…

the consequence

of a life lived largely withdrawn,

where solitude is the norm:

a nagging,

disconcerting

loneliness settles down,

deep into them dry bones-

a thick film

centuries old,

sending gentle warnings to the Quiet Soul

that this human form

was crafted

to be ever

connected.

LIFE (scene One)

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Live

Life

Full.

Be

Here

Now.

For, one never knows

when,

how

The Plug

will be pulled.

Tomorrow,

the next breath,

never guaranteed-

from that illusion,

we must all

be freed.

Life is

precious,

precarious.

The human body,

fragile

as it is

miraculous.

Take

no thing,

no one

for granted.

Live

Life

Soft–

surrendered,

empathetic.

The End

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The End is the Beginning.

The beginning of another chapter,

a different reality, new memories;

a location change, a strange cast of characters

with names and behaviors to learn.

Outside of the comfort zone once again,

the choice to be made to not pretend.

Integrity does not allow one

to play small for very long.

Eventually, one gets woke-

the inside, who you really are

must be expressed,

and unto the world, spoke.

The time does come

when familiarity must succumb.

The price becomes much too high-

either begin anew or slowly die.

The new girl placed on an old block,

what will this journey unlock?

What new skin will it bring?

What songs will it allow

this Soul

to finally sing?

The End is just the Beginning.

 

Cup Runneth Over

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Drenched in gratitude,

humbled by immense Grace,

overwhelmed with benevolence,

truly I tell you:

my cup runneth over!

This softened heart

is about to burst

at the Love demonstrated

by this magnificent Universe!

It just keeps coming-

these perceived blessings-

a torrential downpour.

How much more

can a Soul possibly endure?

I cannot seem to give

as much

at the pace

in which I receive!

Bon Dieu, a moment to breath,

to take it all in please,

to be still and know,

and from there

to make the noise

of unadulterated joy!

My cup runneth over,

vision shifts:

there is no mere

coincidence.

No accident

is this largesse.

To whom much is given,

where Life has been very kind

even more is arisen

within that human mind:

how best to demonstrate gratitude?

how to cultivate the fortitude

to sustain faith

when the same cup

is filled only

with empty space?

 

Fated

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it comes relatively easily,

that which is fated.

the steps run smoothly

as if actions in an incredulous movie!

one feels as if riding a powerful wave

toward that thing God long ago named;

this place He slated

for you alone,

to grow, to blossom, to come into your own.

“this is your path, walk in it,” He declares.

“trust me. do not let your heart be troubled nor scared.”

not all in this life need be a struggle,

an interminable inner fight

to discern where one belongs,

which way is right.

indeed, sometimes a boulder is thrown –

the Universe knowing better

than to reach you with a mere quiet stone.

Urgent, desperate prayers come up constantly to the sky:

“help me!” they all cry.

God cannot do for us

what He cannot do through us.

that we are each other’s keeper –

a remembrance that is sacred, an absolute must.

The call for help

is responded to

by an ever-evolving self

that consciously

with a sense of deep conviction

and moral responsibility

relays relentlessly:

“here I am, Lord, please use me.”

This surrender,

ego placed out of the way,

then renders

the necessary space

for one’s fate

to perfectly navigate.

 

 

 

 

What will my role be in The Revolution?

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What role will I play in The Revolution?

What will my Lord require of me to help bend that long arc of the moral Universe always toward justice?

How will I be asked to repay the debts to those who came before, who took the hits and falls so that I might on their broad, brave shoulders stand – in the moment – free and tall?

To whom much is given, much is required. A government truly for the good of all the people and run by all the people comes at a high cost – the cost of caring, of voting, of marching – of being ever diligent and vigilant, opposing with steadfast love the misguided forces that would hate from the place of fear and darkness cutting through all our human hearts.

What role will we the people play in The Revolution now that the pendulum has swung back, seemingly all the way to the other side and another time – the response to the call for higher love and broader inclusion; the response to the call for pluralism and government visually reflective of its many peoples?

When did we forget our basic tenet that we the people are One – E pluribus Unum? Either we stand together – united, or become completely undone – indeed, extinct – by the misperception that we are not one and must only lookout for number one.

There is no middle moral ground; we can no longer simply stand around, desperately seeking a savior to come down and bear the heat for our collective neglect and defeats.

No, the answers are not out there – never were. The heroes lie on the inside and have thousands of faces. Be still and know that we each have a specific role to play, some piece of the work to claim, an assignment bearing only our name.

May we the people with courage and deep conviction, accept our respective tasks to ensure our beautiful American Experiment lasts, and the freedom for which it always strives remains vibrant and forever alive.